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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687116">Fireworks and Other Fires</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/crepesandoysters/pseuds/crepesandoysters'>crepesandoysters</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Carnival of Venice, Fireworks, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gondola Date, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Venezia | Venice, the gondoliere ships it but is grumpy about it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:54:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27687116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/crepesandoysters/pseuds/crepesandoysters</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It is common knowledge among the citizens of Venice that the island has specific charms for each kind of visitor that comes to admire it. It can offer a temporary home to lonely travelers, gift new and old friends with many occasions to strengthen their bond, and even drive lovers to finally express the words that have gone unspoken between them. It comes then as no wonder that a certain angel and demon visiting during the last night of Carnevale find themselves under a similar spell as they go on a slow gondola ride through the Venice lagune.<br/>And if you add the enchantment of fireworks to the mix, a few words and confessions are bound to slip out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fireworks and Other Fires</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I am a firm believer that Crowley and Aziraphale would be regular visitors of Venice and, more specifically, the kind of visitors that would make sure to slip in a gondola ride every single time. And what better way to give voice to some silent feelings rising up than going for a gondola ride during the celebrations for Carnevale?<br/>So, this is a character study of sort where both Aziraphale and Crowley reflect on their shared past and make decisions about their future with a Venetian winter as the silent observer and a gondoliere as a less silent commenter.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley turned around to follow the path of the shooting firework leaving the island in the middle of the lagune and illuminating it for one moment for all the on-lookers to see. It rose toward the night sky with such firing rage that the stars paled to it, appearing faint and dull behind its scorching trail of light. He felt a hint of annoyance at watching his creation from so long ago  - the stars he had plasmed in his hands and infused with his energy before setting them free to burn in their glory in the sky - being shadowed by mere well orchestrated artificial explosions. And yet, it only took him a quick glance at Aziraphale, sitting beside him on the gondola and looking up at the light show above them, to forget all of that and allow a fond smile to spread across his face. The angel’s face was illuminated by the multitude of colours bursting through the night, his eyes reflecting the light and appearing like twin stars more beautiful than anything Crowley could have ever created during his time in Heaven. </p><p>“Enjoying the light show, Aziraphale?” </p><p>Aziraphale turned to him, his expression alive with excitement and wonder and his smile becoming even brighter as he gave Crowley that fond gaze reserved only for him. Crowley could feel his face redden and blood rushing to his cheeks against his will as he returned a crooked grin to his angel. He did not seem to have gotten used to the amount of love and adoration that Aziraphale’s face was able to express, and as Aziraphale became more comfortable and sure with his ways of showing affection, it seemed highly unlikely that he ever would. </p><p>“Quite so, my dear! It has been an awful long time since I’ve seen such a spectacular show.”</p><p>As he said the words excitedly, his hand snaked across the space between them in a way that would have made Crowley proud hadn’t he been too focused on admiring the way the features on Aziraphale’s face seemed to dance around with each shift in the light. The soft hand nudged gently against Crowley’s own, and the demon briefly wondered why his body temperature seemed to be rivalling the flames of Hell despite the biting chill of winter enveloping them in a tight embrace. He also considered how viable an option was throwing himself into the thick and dark lagune water in an attempt to extinguish the fiery mess that used to be his face. But then he allowed his hand to relax and Aziraphale’s fingers moved between his own and intertwined their hands together, properly shutting off any thought that had still been running through Crowley’s mind. The angel gave a small squeeze without moving his eyes away from the fireworks that were now reaching their climax before extinguishing themselves forever, exploding with renewed energy in a myriad of bright colours and shapes. </p><p>He appeared to be perfectly relaxed while admiring the show, but Crowley had been studying, admiring, loving that face since before the continent they were in even existed and could detect a hint of nervousness in the round features. He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand back and shifted closer to him, finally closing the gap between them and allowing their knees to rest against each other. All traces of tension were immediately washed away by a wave of emotions that fought to dominate the angel’s countenance, and the battle lasted a few heartbeats of Crowley’s racing heart until it finally settled on a fond smile that was not quite as bright as the previous one but all the more sweeter.</p><p> Aziraphale turned once again to face the demon he called his and who had claimed him in return, the only stable figure in his quite eventful existence and yet never a static one, continuously changing and moving, following humanity through their greatest triumphs and defeats but always finding his way back to him. It had seemed an impossible feat at times to maintain Crowley’s restless pace, and Aziraphale had more than once wondered if the demon would one day tire of waiting and leave him behind in the dust of solitude and a cold unforgiving Heaven. But Crowley had always, without fail, waited for him. Whatever rhythm he kept to match humanity’s eagerness to evolve and mutate, he would always dance around Aziraphale’s slower strides, never once blaming him or making him feel guilty for it. And the angel had never ceased to love his forever moving demon, even when he had been forced to push him away and tear apart both of their hearts in the process.</p><p>But Crowley was not moving now. He was staying perfectly still in front of him, not even the rhythmic motions of the gondola against the waves breaking his statuary posture. His sunglasses, still on despite the late hour, had slid down the bridge of his nose and now offered a magnificent view of his golden eyes, almost glowing with their own light as they reflected the shifting light above their heads. They were the loveliest pair of eyes Aziraphale had ever seen - and he could claim to have seen a vast variety of them.</p><p>“I hope you know, dearest,” he murmured, both of his hands moving up to cup around Crowley’s own, as the redhead gladly gave into the touch and leaned in even closer, the ghost of a grin partly easing the tension in his features.</p><p>“Know what, angel?”</p><p>Aziraphale’s heart did a mad leap at the endearment, as it had always done since the first time he had heard Crowley pronouncing it in an almost reverent tone. It did not matter how common a name it had become on Crowley’s lips; it would still wrap the angel’s heart in a tight grip.</p><p>“Know that I love you madly and deeply,” the words rushed out of him, shoving each other in such a way that almost made him stutter. </p><p>It only took a moment of stunned silence (in which Crowley’s brain began to sing in a choir of heavenly voices, but he would never admit that to the angel. He still had a reputation to maintain) for Crowley’s face to light up in such an obvious and immediate way that left even Aziraphale surprised. His hand moved up in a flash to remove the sunglasses - careless of the gondoliere standing on the other side of the gondola and trying his best to analyse his own feet - and allowed the angel a magnificent view of Crowley’s eyes glinting like liquid gold with pure delight. As his grin widened, Aziraphale felt a surging wave of a feeling that he had spent millennia trying to bury as deeply as his aching heart could allow. Now, he was enveloped in it, nearly crushed by a wild current of love. Sheer, uncontrollable love. And it was all coming from the demon in front of him, who was holding onto him as if his life source depended on it. </p><p>Crowley’s hand came to caress Aziraphale’s cheek so carefully and lightly that he could barely feel the touch. He was quick to lean into it and raise his own hand to keep Crowley’s firmly there, not wanting to feel it slip away. He did not want to have Crowley slip away from him ever again. </p><p>“Angel,” Crowley spoke in a low soft voice, almost like a murmur, and Aziraphale did not even try to repress the shiver running down his spine. His demon was keeping him firmly in place with his gaze, his hand giving no sign of moving away, and he opened his mouth again to say something…</p><p>...when the last firework exploded in a circle of golden and silver fire, thundering loudly and then converging into one last spark that burned away before it could touch the ground. Aziraphale yelped in surprise and shifted suddenly on the seat, making the gondola roll violently from side to side. Crowley lost his balance and toppled backwards off the seat, hitting the bottom of the boat with a loud hiss and a series of quite unkind words. Aziraphale was immediately by his side, kneeling down to check if he was alright. He was busy fussing over Crowley and apologizing - his hands gripping his shoulders and then moving up to brush a few strands of fiery hair out of his eyes, gifting him with the sight of the other’s cheeks matching those strands in colour - while Crowley was even busier reassuring the angel and attempting to maintain what little dignity he had left as he was lying on his back at the bottom of a blasted gondola with his legs still tangled up over the seat. So, neither of them noticed the string of Italian swear words rising up from the thick waters of the lagune, followed by hollow bumps on the outer side of the boat. It was only when one of those bumps hit the spot right below Crowley’s head, pulling a hiss out of him that no human could have ever produced, that the two realized that the gondoliere was no longer perched on the higher tip of the gondola. </p><p>“Oh dear, that poor fellow has fallen into the water!” Aziraphale exclaimed, ready to bring him back onboard perfectly dry with a snap of his fingers before Crowley sent him a warning look. </p><p>“You’d think the ‘poor fellow’ would have better balance” grumbled the redhead, annoyed at having to move his attention away from his angel for the time necessary to help the other man back up on the gondola. </p><p>Aziraphale cast him a reproaching glare, hurrying to help him grab the gondoliere by the arms, “Now, that is no way to talk about him. It is, after all, my fault that he has fallen off. That firework really did catch me by surprise.”</p><p>“Then it is the firework’s fault” Crowley would blame the entire city of Venice before letting the angel feel guilty about even the smallest thing. </p><p>They finally managed to haul the soaked man onto the gondola, as he kept on yelling and grumbling words that were impossible to make out but certainly did not sound particularly nice. Aziraphale still attempted to apologize to him even though it seemed like the other was not listening to a single word. Crowley hid the long paddle behind him with a kick as a precaution in case the gondoliere would try to use it as a contending weapon. He did, however, sympathize with the poor man finding himself soaking wet in the middle of a child winter night and performed a small miracle to partly dry his clothes without raising any suspicion. At the same time, Aziraphale decided to do a miracle himself, preventing the human from catching a cold or a fever from the freezing night air, the ethereal essence somehow not clashing with the demonic one and doing its job perfectly. The two smiled at each other as they both sensed their miracles giving some form of relief to the shaken up man, who had apparently decided he had imprecated enough for the night and had fallen quiet. He only remained silent for a few seconds though, because he soon erupted in an exclamation in Italian, “E datevelo questo cazzo di bacio, madonna santa!” </p><p>Crowley allowed himself a smirk as he understood the word ‘bacio’ while Aziraphale scrunched his eyebrows in confusion in the way that would always make Crowley want to reach out to him. He did reach out to his angel this time, gently taking his hand and pulling him around to face him. He fought the urge to simply say nothing and stare into Aziraphale’s eyes as long as he would allow him and instead managed to form actual words, much to his surprise. </p><p>“I hope you also know, angel” He relished in Aziraphale’s expectant smile slowly realizing what he was about to say, and he brought both of his hands up to cup the blond’s face, “That<br/>
I’m just as madly in love with you. Have been for a long time actually, and y’know…”</p><p>He was cut off by Aziraphale slipping out of his touch to lean forward and press his lips to his. The point of contact burst into the most delightfully intense fire Crowley had ever experienced, rivalling the flames of Hell in its force and yet feeling soft and soothing on his dry mouth. He felt Aziraphale’s hands snake through his hair and pull him closer, and he let his own arms wrap around the angel tightly, attempting to close even the minimum distance between them. They had both spent six thousand years forcing themselves to maintain a distance between each other that would suit their head offices, but now that the voices of Heaven and Hell no longer whispered in their ears and haunted their existences, he was going to make sure to erase that distance every single day he would get to spend with Aziraphale. He was never going to leave the angel’s side and he promised to himself that he would not let anything in this world or others keep him away again, as long as Aziraphale would have him. </p><p>Aziraphale’s thoughts seemed to be of a similar nature as he held onto Crowley with something close to desperation, his lips briefly stretching into an incredulous smile against Crowley’s own before resuming the kiss. Their mouths were performing a dance of their own accord, slotting together perfectly and exploring each other first tentatively and then with increasing confidence. Their bodies were pressed together so tightly that it almost seemed like they might occupy the same space, and yet they were both yearning for more. More closeness, more contact, more of this sweet fire that sparked anew with every touch, leaving them breathless and euphoric. Nothing else existed in this bubble of fire reserved only for them, not the steely bite of the wind nor the lights of the city winking at them from the edge of the lagune or the stars finally returned to their shining glory now that the fireworks had completed their show. There was only an angel and a demon and, at last, no distance between them. </p><p>✦</p><p>It took quite a few increasingly less polite attempts at clearing his voice for the gondoliere to attract Aziraphale and Crowley’s attention. He had congratulated them for finally getting on with it - which would have resulted in Crowley getting into an argument with him hadn’t Aziraphale taken him by the hand and led him to the more comfortable seat on the other end of the gondola - and then made a joke in Italian that seemed to refer to their hotel room, at which point Aziraphale exclaimed that he would like to return to Venice. The return trip only lasted half an hour, but Aziraphale felt like he had been wrapped in Crowley’s arms for hours when they finally reached the docking site near San Marco Square and felt a little lost when he was forced to untangle himself from the demon’s embrace. The feeling was soon erased when Crowley offered him his hand to help him off the boat and onto the shore and never let go of it, even once the angel had safely set foot on stable ground. </p><p>They bid goodbye to the man with a wave and many thanks, most of them from Aziraphale, although Crowley made sure to dry off the man’s clothes completely with a subtle snap of his fingers. Aziraphale loved him even more for it. And then they were alone, holding onto each other and gazing at the heart of the city, alive with movement and laughter despite the late hour. The masks for Carnevale formed a swarming sea of twisted faces, draped robes, and bright colours, all intertwined into a joyous celebration, one of the traditions of humanity that never failed to make Aziraphale smile in delight. </p><p>His attention was abruptly caught by two young women walking side by side and holding hands much like him and Crowley were, and their costumes were impossible to misinterpret. One of them had her long light hair pulled into a bun with a plastic golden halo on top of it held in place by a few pins and seemed to have coordinated her clothing on the colour blue. The other was proudly displaying a long red dress and a pair of unmistakable black horns among her dark curls. They were an angel and a demon. Holding each other and exchanging loving glances and playful giggles every few steps.</p><p>Aziraphale looked up at his own demon who had also noticed the pair and was looking at them in what seemed a lot like fondness. He smiled and did not hesitate to raise himself on tiptoes to deliver a light kiss on Crowley’s cheek, basking in the delight of seeing the other blush furiously and then smile the crooked grin that Aziraphale adored. He let himself relax and lean against Crowley’s shoulder, taking in the sight of one of his favourite cities in this world and his most certainly favourite being in all of the worlds. He still found it hard to believe, but Crowley’s hand was soft and warm in his, his body firm against his touch, and his eyes brighter than the entirety of creation. </p><p>The cheers and laughter echoed in the night air as the clock on the side of the square striked midnight, bringing life to the city. But nothing that night brought more life to the island of Venice than an angel and a demon, holding onto each other with the force of millennia.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As a little side note for non-Italian speakers, what the gondoliere said was on the lines of "Just kiss already!", just with a few more 'colourful' Italian additions. Lucky for all for them, Crowley knew that 'bacio' means 'kiss'.</p><p>Hope you enjoyed it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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